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I - "Play fair, play hard, play smart."
At Copley’s, before their first mission all together
It had been a couple of months since Quỳnh had returned to them, and a few weeks since they had gotten rid of the danger represented by Silvio. Finally, they could focus on the future. Nicky and Quỳnh's training was going well. They would soon be ready to accompany the Old Guard on missions.
Not right away, of course, because Joe's chest tightened at the very thought, but soon, one day... Only after Nicky and Quỳnh had learned everything they needed to.
And the two had all of them to help with that: Nile, with her marine attitude, always eager and ready, Booker grumbling under his breath at the end of each of his sessions, and Joe, who hardly noticed the days go by.
Nicky was claiming most of his time, increasingly devoted to his sword training, as there were only a few weeks left before the challenge he had issued to Andy.
Joe had trained Booker and Nile when they joined their family, he had trained entire regiments during his long life, preparing men as best he could to fight for their lives and freedom, and he was proud to say that Nicky was picking things up quickly. Also, with each training session, they were learning to fight better together. There had always been something... easy between him and Nicky, but together, side by side with a sword, it was as if they were made for each other. Their fighting skills complementing each other. Sometimes Joe wondered how things would have turned out if he'd met Nicky a millennium earlier.
Still, he hadn't trained so hard since the volcano incident with Andy.
But even if the days were tough, at least, every evening was spent all together, cooking, laughing, and becoming a family.
It was in this spirit that Nile suggested a new activity. "Because team building is just as important as learning to wield medieval axes, Andy."
So here they were. In Copley’s garden. Joe, with his arms wrapped around himself and his too-thin sportswear, to keep warm on this gray morning. He would never get used to these humid English autumns.
The wet weather didn't seem to bother Nile. She excitedly clapped her hands. "You all got it?" she asked, a Chicago cap on her head.
Joe also wore his pink leopard cap, but with the difference that his was backward and the little grimace of confusion on his face. The only thing that reassured him was that the others seemed as lost as him. Booker had his mouth open, Nicky's head was tilted, Copley’s brows were furrowed, and Quỳnh had just stopped listening at some point.
Nile was watching them enthusiastically.
"Seems easy enough," Andy finally said. Joe scoffed. Just two seconds ago, she looked as clueless as the rest of them.
"It's like buzkashi," Andy continued, and Joe remembered all the times he saw her vibrate, jumping on her horse to face hundreds of riders at full gallop in pursuit of a sheep carcass.
"No, Andy," said Nile. "It's not like that. At all!"
"Of course," Andy waved her hand dismissively. "It's not exactly the same thing."
"Yes," laughed Joe. "Just a few differences if you remove the thousands of horses, and the dead sheep."
Nicky turned to him with wide eyes. "Dead sheep?" he mouthed.
"Can we refocus?" Nile interrupted them, sounding a bit more impatient. And without further ado, she passed a baseball glove to Booker, who looked at it with circumspection, and the bat to Joe, who had no idea what to do with it. Really, these American sports...
"No, Quỳnh, you've got to stand there," Nile said firmly.
If even Quỳnh was given this commanding tone, Joe could do nothing else than resign himself to his fate.
They hadn't been playing – read, confusedly running around - for 2 minutes when Copley limped over to Nile.
"I'm sorry, it's my hips," the man said, a small wince on his face.
And because Nile and her eternal youth had always considered him an old man, she looked at him with sympathy and nodded.
The man made his way to the seats on his terrace, abandoning them hastily, all limping miraculously disappearing. That didn't stop Nicky, as thoughtful as ever, from going over to him and offering him a blanket and a cup of tea. Or maybe he could bake a cake, he proposed.
"Nicky!" shouted Nile. "We're waiting for you. James is fine."
"Oh, sì, of course." Nicky’s shoulders dropped a little, and Joe's eyes narrowed. Oh that little shit, he'd been trying to get away too.
But there was no way to escape. Nile placed them back in position and handed the bat to Nicky.
He missed the first ball that came towards him, and Andy made a slight noise. Nicky must have taken this as a challenge, because his eyes narrowed in concentration.
Quỳnh threw a second ball. Nicky swung his bat. The sound of the ball hitting the wood resonated in the garden. The ball soared into the sky.
Across the garden, Nile leaped to grab it, then swiftly tossed it toward Joe. He was about to catch it when a body slammed into him.
He was sent flying through the air and landed on the muddy ground with a humph.
"What the fuck, Book!?" He growled while pushing Booker, who had fallen on him.
"Gotcha, old man," Booker replied, sitting in the mud, a stupid big grin on his face, at least on the half that wasn't smeared with thick mud.
The sight of it and his pink cap on the ground beside him sent a wave of apprehension through Joe. He brushed his curls with a tentative hand and let out a groan. Removing all that sticky mud from his hair was going to be a nightmare.
"Book!" shouted Nile behind them.
Booker smiled proudly at her. "That was a perfect tackle, right, babe?"
Nile narrowed her eyes. "We're playing baseball, not American football."
"American football?" Booker said with a hint of disdain. "One, you can't call this football, two, rugby is far better than-"
"Don't piss me off, Le Livre." Nile interrupted him. "Go back to your position.”
Booker stood up immediately. "Yes, Ma’am."
"Someone's going to sleep on the sofa tonight," snickered Joe.
Booker threw him a glare, but it was Nile who silenced Joe. "Al-Kaysani, we don't have all day!"
At her tone, his laughing stopped short, and he jumped to his feet. Ya Allah, my God, this woman was worse than Andy on training days.
"Quỳnh, stop flirting with Andy. Let's get back to the game," said Nile, tapping her fist into her glove and getting into position.
Copley was on the terrace, sipping a hot tea, looking quite entertained. Joe hated him for a moment.
15 minutes later, five more slips in the mud, three admonishments from Nile, and a collision between Andy and Nile that caused a bloody face and a broken nose, which thankfully healed immediately, it was Booker's turn to take the bat.
"Don't miss it, Sébastien," warned Quỳnh, from somewhere behind Joe, who was preparing to throw the ball from the spot Nile had indicated to him. "I want this to be over."
The threat in her tone was clear. Quỳnh had never liked staying out in the cold for too long when she could avoid it, or when there was no one to hunt and kill.
So, of course, Joe threw and Booker missed. On the third try, Quỳnh growled with rage and took out a knife from her sleeve. Copley choked on his tea, Booker tried to back away, lost his balance, and, arms flailing, fell butt-first into the mud.
Nicky had to intervene, placing himself between them. And because it was her precious Nicolino, Quỳnh softened as if by magic. Her knife forgotten in one hand, she gently ran her other hand through Nicky's hair to keep it out of his eyes, with the same affection a mother would show her child after an afternoon of fun at the park.
Booker took the opportunity to discreetly hide behind Nile.
"Maybe we should stop this now," suggested Joe. His tracksuit was soaked with mud, chilling him to the bone. All he wanted was a hot shower.
"No way," said Andy and Nicky at the same time. "We're even."
Joe blinked, wondering how they'd kept track of the score when clearly neither of them had any idea what they were doing.
"They are right," said Nile.
Joe stopped himself from sighing.
Then he found himself at the bottom of the garden, the ball coming high into the sky towards him. He had a vague idea that he was supposed to catch it. Nile did that earlier. But then, he saw two bodies running towards the ball, at the same time, from opposite directions. Centuries on the battlefield did not prepare him for this shit. As the two bodies leaped at the ball, he decided it was safer to take a step backward. The two slammed into each other and fell into the ground, splattering Joe with mud.
Joe whined loudly in despair.
"I've got it," said Nicky, on the ground, covered in mud, the ball in his hand.
"Certainly not," replied Andy, also clutching the ball, not caring she was lying in the same cold, muddy mess.
"I had it first." Nicky tried to pull the ball towards him.
"Certainly not." Andy resisted and elbowed him in the ribs. Nicky humphed but maintained his grip on the ball.
"Guys," shouted Nile in exasperation, "stop it! It's not even yours to catch. And for the hundredth time, you are on the same team."
"Maybe, but I’m winning," said Andy.
Nicky scoffed. "I’m the one winning. I caught this one first."
"In your dreams, kid," replied Andy.
Joe could guess the annoyed 'I'm 30, Andy' that Nicky was thinking, but he was too focused on avoiding another of Andy’s pointed elbows to say it aloud.
Neither of them let go.
Joe sighed. Knowing these two, it could last a long time.
It wasn't just the matter of this baseball game, or even the sword challenge, there had also been their first hand-to-hand fight. Nicky held out for 95 seconds before Andy knocked him down. His ribs still cracking, popping back into place, Nicky had immediately demanded another round, his eyebrows furrowed with determination.
There was also the time Nile tried to convince them to run a half marathon. Andy vetoed the race - too public, too risky - but accepted the training, much to Joe's despair. At some point, during their long-distance run through the forest, Nicky passed Andy by a head at a bend in the road. So, of course, Andy rushed back in front of him. Nicky accelerated. And already a few meters ahead of the others, neither of them heard Nile calling to them to take the other path at the crossroads. Even Nile gave up on pursuing them at some point.
As the hours passed, Joe and the others had waited for them cozily at home, preparing dinner in the meantime. Well, to be more precise, Booker had been chopping vegetables while Joe criticized his technique, comfortably seated at his place at the island counter. It was quite entertaining. He was pretty sure that the girls had turned it into a drinking game because he saw them sip from their glasses of wine every time Booker insulted him in French.
Then Andy and Nicky returned. At dusk. Covered in sweat, their clothes torn by tree branches. Booker and Joe shared a horrified look at the sight. But Andy simply said, "Good training".
Nicky nodded, still panting. "Next time, I'll beat you."
Andy had laughed.
Andy. laughing. openly, freely, amused.
And she said. "We'll see that."
Quỳnh was convinced that over the last centuries, Joe had given Andy back some lightness and Nile had given her purpose. She also said Nicky had reawakened a long-forgotten spark in Andy.
For his part, Joe wondered if Nicky wasn't Andy’s birth little brother, lost in time. Or some very distant descendant. A 10,000 times great-great-grandnephew, maybe. Because Joe had never seen people so similar on some points. They weren't just competitive - no, that would have been fine. Nile was too, after all, but at least she kept her good sense in all situations. But these two, they were competitive and stubborn.
So while Andy and Nicky were still wrestling on the floor, the baseball between them, Booker cleared his throat. "Is this it?" he asked, hopeful.
"Certainly not," they both shouted. Andy threw mud at Nicky to force him to let go of the ball. Nicky groaned in indignation and threw some back at her.
Joe heard Copley sigh on the terrace. "I'll get the shower ready. Just try not to get mud everywhere," he said as he went into the house.
Nile looked desperate. She had lost her cap at some point, and her box braids had gone in all directions.
"Pancakes?" offered Booker.
She sighed and nodded, "Yeah, thanks, babe."
When she turned around, Joe shouted a victory cry and ran into the house to get the first shower, leaving Quỳnh to deal with Andy and Nicky. Joe could always come back to check on them if they hadn't come home by nightfall. But in the meantime, crouching down next to them, Quỳnh seemed to be in a much better mood, more than a little amused by the chaos of the scene.
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II - "All warfare is based on deception." – Sun Tzu
A couple of months after Andy and Quỳnh returned from their sabbatical year
"Oh God, this is delicious," said Copley, his eyes wide, a piece of cake in his mouth.
On the other side of the dining table, Nile swallowed her bite and nodded enthusiastically, her head bobbing up and down like one of those little figures that used to be fashionable behind car windscreens.
"It's… okay." Andy shrugged in front of her plate.
"Okay?" repeated Nicky slowly, his eyes staring at her, ignoring everyone else.
Andy took another bite of the grapefruit cake, her eyes widening slightly, before she regained her blasé air. "Okay," she repeated. "I still prefer baklava."
Nicky groaned, and his shoulders slumped.
A couple of months after Andy and Quỳnh’s return, Quỳnh had decided to reinstate their family tradition of celebrating all the favorite holidays she had collected across the world and through the ages.
It couldn't hurt that it came a month after the anniversary of the death of one of Booker's sons. Booker had since fallen back into another period of insomnia and depression. They would come across him at any time of the night, wandering alone around their safehouses, with dark circles under the eyes and his hair unkempt. Nile was doing her best to stay awake and stay by his side, but the poor girl could not help but succumb to exhaustion after so many sleepless nights. When Joe found Booker, looking hollow-eyed and forlorn, alone in the kitchen, staring at the liquor cabinet, he called a family emergency meeting.
They weren't going to let their brother suffer in silence.
And as the Tengri festival had not been celebrated anywhere since ancient Mongolia, they decided to return to Copley at the spring equinox. Quỳnh and Nile had decorated the house with colorful fabrics, solar and celestial symbols representing Tengri, the deity of the eternal sky. Booker and Andy had selected some music and lit a fire in the fireplace to recall the rituals of yesteryear. Joe and Nicky had prepared the festive meal. James had brought out his china service and the silver cutlery for the occasion.
They spent a pleasant evening around the table, chatting and eating. Eating a lot. Indeed, this evening had, in a way, become an opportunity to finally fulfill the very first bet that Nicky had made with Booker about Andy's favorite dessert.
"I think you owe me 50," smirked Booker, leaning back in his dining chair, after Andy had reaffirmed her love for baklava.
"Don’t be mean, Booker, give him another chance," said Andy, clearly aiming for a magnanimous, altruistic tone.
Nile nodded, clearly supporting this idea, while Andy was already grabbing another cake. 'Grapefruit', she muttered under her breath with astonishment, before taking a big bite of the cake.
"200 euros, I'll get it right next time," said Nicky, his eyes shining with determination.
Booker chuckled. "If you want, mon frère."
Joe shook his head resignedly, but he let them get on with it. It was the first time in weeks that Booker looked so relaxed, as though the man had forgotten the ghosts that tormented him. Also, Booker had told Joe he now spent all the money he 'won/stole' from Nicky to support shelters in Italy. These people were sure to receive a fortune soon. For it was certain that Nicky would not forfeit.
Especially after their last game nights.
When Andy and Quỳnh had returned after their year away, they'd brought presents for each of them. They had unwrapped them in the safehouse where they had met up in Hungary.
"Holy fuck," Nile had said as she opened the craft paper covering her big package. "Is- Is it... ?"
Joe had glanced at the framed painting in her hands. "Yep, a Rembrandt."
"Guys, this is… too much," Nile had whispered in awe, wide-eyed.
"Don't worry," Andy had replied, dropping onto the sofa. "We just went round our old caches to dust off all that old junk." She waved her hand as if it were nothing, despite the small pleased smile on her lips.
Nile looked so touched, tears pooling in her eyes, that Joe couldn't resist kissing her on the forehead.
When she insisted the painting should be in a museum for everyone to enjoy, Joe's heart swelled even more with affection for his little sister.
Booker finally convinced her that the painting would be perfect above the table in their house in the South of France. Just for a couple of years, the time for him and Joe to make a perfect copy.
"Just a couple of years then," Nile had agreed, her eyes full of wonder never leaving the painting.
Then Andy had thrown Booker another package, smaller and more compact. He caught it with one hand and stood frozen for a moment after opening it. It was one of the oldest transcriptions of the Odyssey. A debate had been raging for some time in the literary community about the pre-Christian versions of the story. Booker’s eyes were sparkling and Joe knew his brother would be spending the next few days and nights deciphering the ancient Greek and comparing it with his dozen other copies.
Nicky had been given a Persian kard, a small dagger with a thin, sharp blade of steel. Quite an elaborate alternative to the folding knife he usually kept on him.
"I can teach you how to use it, if you want," Andy had offered. Nicky had nodded impatiently. He had then run a finger over the fine engravings of leaves on the knife's handle.
"You can thank Yusuf for the ornamentation," said Quỳnh. "If I remember correctly, he was the one who influenced this style at the Persian court when we were there in the 13th century."
Nicky had turned to him, eyebrows raised, and Joe had tilted his head slightly, waving his hand like an artist's bow. Nicky had laughed.
As for Joe, he had frowned at the gift he received.
Andy had handed a package to him without revealing anything in her expression. Joe had unwrapped it with curiosity and found an assortment of board games, all shining new. Not that he'd expected an antique like the others, he had already too many, but it had surprised him at first.
A few days after, they spent an evening playing together. Surrounded by the laughter of his family - and cries of outrage when one of them was caught cheating - Joe had smiled, happy. Andy had put a hand on his forearm. They shared a quiet, content gaze. Just before Andy’s head whirled to protest a roll of the dice as Nicky was about to win. And Nicky narrowed his eyes.
That night, Joe had stayed alone in Nicky's bedroom. From the first night in this safehouse, since Nicky had offered him shelter, they had shared the same bed. But then, the smell of orange blossom in the bed sheets had almost disappeared, Nicky wasn’t there, and Joe couldn't sleep. It wasn't the first time he was sleeping alone of course; he had been doing it for almost a millennium. It was the first time he looked at his watch several times wondering when Nicky would return.
The next morning, Joe had found Andy and Nicky, still in front of the game board. Joe had huffed a laugh. Over his cup of coffee, he had observed, beyond the glint of competitiveness in Andy and Nicky’s eyes, their relaxed posture and the playfulness in their voices.
It had been the same during all the other evening games before coming to Copley’s. Not an evening without Andy rolling her eyes and lying blatantly and Nicky gesticulating with his hands while loudly objecting in Italian.
So when all the grapefruit cakes had disappeared from the plates, and when Copley, not feeling up to holding a horse race in his garden as the Tengri tradition would have it, suggested a board game to end the evening, they all groaned while Nicky and Andy were already jumping to their feet, eyes shining.
By the end of the evening, Booker was laughing out loud on the living room carpet, Copley was discreetly putting away his china set and Joe was banning Monopoly for the next century.
And yet Joe wouldn't have traded this for anything in the world. He was looking forward to spending the coming months and years with his new family, wondering what the future would hold for them.